Arthur McDoyle woke up to his alarm ringing and without opening his eyes, struggled to swipe at his screen and dismiss the alarm but the alarm just kept on getting louder. After a brief struggle he opened his eyes in annoyance and dismissed the alarm then rolled over and tried to get back to sleep but couldn't. He opened his eyes again and looked at the time on his phone, it was 2:37pm. Jeez! How long had he been passed out from his alcohol induced sleep? He couldn't recall the events of last night clearly at the moment but he had a vague memory of being thrown out of the club by some bouncers and he couldn't even remember how he had gotten home, he must have been really wasted. He tried to get up and clear his head with a shake, but was hit by a splitting headache, causing him to hold his head and sit down again. OK, he would take it easy and slowly get and go get some aspirin and water in the bathroom. He was trying to stand up slowly when his phone started blowing up with notificat
Chris had been the last one to arrive at the ice cream palour. He had walked in to see the ladies sitted at the most secluded booth even though they were the only ones in the shop. He had been waved over by Sarah who was sitted beside Rose on the side of the booth that faced the door. He walked over to join them and slid in beside Monica."We already placed our orders," Rose said "Plain old vanilla for you."Chris didn't say anything but only acknowledged her words with a nod and a tight lipped smile. He was still caught up in the surprise and anger of what he had found out. He felt angry, betrayed, surprised and scared at the whole thing.Monica slid a hand into his and squeezed it causing him to look at their connected hands then up at her."Sarah filled us in already and we also checked out the news," she said "I'm so sorry about this." she finished."Sorry?" Chris asked and disconnected his hand from hers. Why was she sorry? Did she think he was sad because he felt like he had los
Richard stepped out of his car and looked at the limo wondering which of the Bolton men was inside; his dear uncle, Michael Bolton or his precious cousin, Chris Bolton? He folded his arms across his chest and smiled at the limo, waiting for its occupant to come out.In the limo Chris glared hard at Richard even though he knew Richard couldn't see him. He balled his hands into fists and they shook in anger. He ought to get out of the vehicle and punch the smile of that animal's face, he thought and quickly undid his seat belt and rushed out of the car and charged at Richard."Just the one I wanted to see; my precious cousin" Richard thought to himself with a smirk on his face as he watched Chris Bolton get down from the limo and charge at him, no doubt with the intention to attack him. He watched him get within reasonable distance and closed his eyes as he waited for the punch he was sure Chris Bolton would deliver, but nothing came.Chris charged at Richard with balled fists, ready
As Richard's car backed out and sped away from the driveway of the Bolton's Mansion, Chris stared after it till it had departed a reasonable distance and had become a little speck in the distance. For the life of him, he couldn't understand the true purpose of Richard's sudden visit but he would ensure they didn't suddenly turn around to do make any destructive move. He turned around to see his dad, Rose, Sarah and Monica were also watching the disappearing form of the vehicles and their eyes turned on him when they caught his movement. "Alright then, come on up, we need to talk," Michael Bolton said eventually to the four persons he had been waiting for since he disbanded the party, "you can take some time to freshen up before joining Mrs. Yvonne and I in the study," he added as he took in Chris' weird and somewhat scruffy appearance. His shirt was rumpled and the first three or four buttons seemed to either have been snapped off or been purposely undone and he could see his suit an
Richard's car rode into the driveway of Thomas Bolton's home carefully and came to a stop in front of the door then Richard flung the car door open, jumped out and slammed it shut then stormed into the house. He marched straight to his room stomping his feet in anger without a care for Thomas Bolton's hatred for noise. The guards and staffs cleared the way and stayed off his path when they saw him and he shoved aside an unsuspecting maid who had her back to him and hadn't seen his furious approach. He stormed into his room and slammed the door shut then he rested his back on it and began to hit his right thigh with his right hand which he had balled into fists. He was still fuming at Michael Bolton and Chris Bolton.He pushed away from the door and threw his suit and tie which he held in his hand, on his bed and began to pace with his hands on his waist as he rolled his tongue in his mouth. Suddenly, he stopped and looked around him. He took in his neatly arranged and organized room.
When he had finished his iced tea, Richard sat for a while and thought about how he could get through to Thomas Bolton. He needed to win his favour again so he could gradually push him to attack that unbearably annoying Michael Bolton and his proud miserable son, Chris Bolton.What could he tell him? How could he show and prove his loyalty and earn his respect and trust? He thought hard but couldn't come up with anything and that left him feeling frustrated. Why did Thomas Bolton not have a Mrs. Yvonne in his life for Christ's sake? Or even a Monica. Just someone who worked really closely with him and knew him quite well. It would have made things a lot easier for Richard who was quite good at charming his way into people's hearts and affections when he set his mind to it. He would have simply given a little speech on how much proving himself to his father, Thomas, meant to him and the person would spill all they knew in a few minutes, but no, Thomas Bolton had lived his life as a co
Richard stared at Thomas for a while and silently prayed he hadn't made the wrong choice. He reviewed what he had come to say to you this man again and wondered how he hadn't realized it wasn't such a grand idea in his room. As he rolled the idea over and over again in his mind and his folly dawned on him the more, he siltently offered pleas and made promises to God, His Son and His Spirit to just help me make it out alive. Feeling like he still needed to do more, he offered pleas and made promises to every other god and goddess he had ever heard of. "Well?" Thomas asked with a voice that exuded impatience and irritation. Screw this!! Richard thought to himself. He hadn't changed so he would still be scared of Thomas Bolton. Yes, he knew the change wouldn't come to stay in just one day but this fear was too much. Besides, what was that thing people always said about projecting confidence? If he spoke up with boldness and confidence, then just maybe, Thomas Bolton would see the exc
Arthur McDoyle lay face up on the floor of his living room. He had been in that position for a good number of minutes or maybe an hour, but he didn't mind and he just didn't feel like moving from that position. He knew the fur from his animal skin center rug could mess up his hair and clothes but he didn't care about any of that and he lay there feeling listless. His earlier anger had now totally seeped away and had left him feeling deflated. In the place of anger he now felt frustrated, hurt, used and abandoned and he didn't like it as it also made him feel pathetic and he had never been a fan of self pity. After brooding some more, he sat up and shook his head in a bid to shake off the unwanted feeling then he shifted back so he could lean on his couch and think properly. He needed a plan and wasting time brooding and feeling sorry for himself wasn't going to get him one. His biggest and most dangerous creditor may be dead but he had other debts to pay and he needed a plan to get th